Alanna as a healer
by Regen
Summary: Exactly what the title says... on permanent HIATUS!
1. Alanna

Welcome to 'Alanna as a healer'. A really stupid title - not poetic in the least - but it fits the content. My very first English fan fiction work, and originally meant to help me improve my English. Which is why I welcome any Grammar/Spelling remarks as well as constructive criticism in your reviews! (That was a hint!!)  
  
A summary? Well.. real simple. Alanna gets to go to the Convent instead of the Palace (again. yeah. Yeah.), and gets into apprenticeship of the healers. When she is thirteen, a disease breaks out in the Capital of Tortall and the King requests the help of the healers in the City of the Gods. Won't tell no more.  
  
I reread and partly rewrote the whole thing just this last week (it's the first, really rainy week of October, guys), so. it's all better now! I hope. Have fun.! ~ Regen  
  
~~~~~  
  
1 (let me introduce: Alanna!)  
  
Sighing, Alanna leant back in her chair and pretended to be all interested in the information that monotonely flew out of her teacher's mouth. History of Arts was the most boring class of all, but at least she didn't have to attack some pillow with her needle (commonly known as embroidery).  
  
The artist they were doing right now was the most famous of the last century, Sister Gwendolen of the High Mothergoddess' Convent was just explaining. He was the first to paint exact doubles of faces (and without the use of magic, mind you); he was the founder of portrait painting.  
  
In Alanna's opinion he'd been great with people's faces but almost unable to draw anything other than that. He must've been lost in reality or somewhat, as he couldn't draw real things- such as horses and weapons.  
  
Eyes focussed on the picture they were just dealing with (entitled "The Brave"), Alanna realized that the people on the canvas were actually meant to be three knights guarding a not showed something in a forest.  
  
Knights. Alanna sighed again. She'd always wanted to become a knight.  
  
There'd been that day, her father, Lord Alan, had sent her and her brother to school - him to the court, and her to the convent school. She'd been in such despair! She'd even talked into Thom, her twin brother, to change places with her. She wanted him to go to the Convent to fulfil his dream of a future as a sorcerer, so that she'd go and, pretending to be a boy, would make her way to the Ordeal and be the first female knight for half an eternity.  
  
Their father had just given them the letters for the First Daughter of Convent and Sir Gareth of Naxen, the Trainer of the pages and squires, and Thom was writing fake letters imitating Lord Alan's handwriting. Alanna had been reading it aloud, looking over his shoulder: 'To Sir Gareth of Naxen - Your Grace, greetings! Hereby I send you my younger son, Alan of Trebond. I trust in your well-known knowledge and experience to make him grow up to a proper knight." She'd been giggling so hard that they wouldn't hear the door when their father came in, rather unpurposefully as he'd already said them a last Good-bye. He'd not been too pleased when he realized what they were doing.  
  
"Lady Alanna? Would you mind telling me what you're thinking about so intensively?" a sharp voice broke into her thoughts.  
  
Noiselessly cursing her father for letting her stuck in this school for what was now about three years, Alanna sighed a third time. Then she raised up her eyes to the teacher's face and got up to answer.  
  
"Dear Sister", she began, but was interrupted rudely:  
  
"It's honourable Sister Gwendolen!" her teacher growled.  
  
"Honourable Sister Gwendolen," Alanna repeated in an all-too patient voice that made half the class laugh.  
  
"Of course I'd been thinking about the picture you are so nice to show us.  
  
The faces, drawn so exact, so perfectly, are really enormously impressing, -  
  
as well as the fact that a sword like the left man is holding is just impossible. Built like that it would break in the first fight, or rather, I dare say, at first stroke.  
  
And the face of that same man, it's the face of King Henry the Rhyme who lived in the last Century. As the name already says, he was a poet and a singer, he never ever knew how to even hold a sword, not to speak of fighting!  
  
And that other men are Raoul of Crawn, a diplomat of Scanra, and Henry's son Henry Alexander. Even ignoring the fact that the picture was drawn in a time the Scanrans were fighting against Tortall, Henry's son died at the age of 5. To me it's still tasteless to just put a child's face on a knight's body.  
  
I mean, okay, if the artist wanted to draw famous people, but he could at least have changed the surroundings etcetera."  
  
At that point Sister Gwendolen, who's face had gone all red and who had been opening and closing her mouth for quite a while now, finally managed to get the words out of her mouth:  
  
"What are you..? He is the best artist that ever walked on Earth and you, you are just a disrespectful, young, little, and unladylike, foolish girl that doesn't know anything about nothing! You shouldn't 've, you shouldn't.  
  
The First Daughter is going to know about that! That you don't respect any."  
  
"Oh, were you going to visit me, dear Sister?" a calm voice asked from the door.  
  
As everybody turned their heads to see who was there, they saw a slender figure, dressed in the typical robes and veil.  
  
The First Daughter radiated an aura of silent dignity that made everyone who stayed in some room she was entering shut up immediately. She formed an interesting difference to Sister Gwendolen. The latter being the typical artist: a bit untidy, confusing and uneven in her moods, while the First Daughter always seemed to be on a stop halfway to heaven.  
  
"D-dear Sister", Alanna's teacher started with a slight stutter, "Yes, I've been just on the way to you. Lady Alanna of Trebond, Sister, she just."  
  
"You won't have to handle her for quite a while now, Sister Gwendolen." she was interrupted.  
  
"A messenger from Corus arrived this morning. A horrible disease seems to have broken out. The Court's healers ask for our support and assistance. We have decided to send as many healers to the town as we can do without.  
  
As by our great Mother Lady Alanna has been blessed with an extraordinarily great gift, she will be sent to Court as well."  
  
Turning to Alanna she added: "I expect you to behave like a real lady and to turn to healer-woman Maude."  
  
Violet eyes glittered with joy, although the girl tried to hide her feelings.  
  
"Shall I go and pack now, most honourable Sister?"  
  
She nodded, smiling slightly:  
  
"You may."  
  
From one moment to the other, the red hair started flying in a sudden headwind  
  
-------------------- 


	2. Steven

2 (Now, please welcome: Steven! He's a really nice guy.)  
  
With the intention to get packed as soon as possible, Alanna stormed into the rooms, she and Maude, her maid and teacher of herbal healing, lived in. The unexpected sight of a bright brown robe let her come to a sudden halt, stumbling.  
  
"What the." she began, before she recognised the boy the robe belonged to.  
  
He was about Alanna's age, thirteen or a bit older. In his left hand he hold a bucket of water, in the other a bunch of steel wool, obviously trying to get the rust of the iron fireplace. His bare head's skin was glittering with a mixture of sweat and one small flowing line of blood.  
  
"Oh Steven! They've shaved you again! Why can't you just try and keep quiet instead of contradicting everything!" Alanna shouted, a slight smile on her lips while she tried to get her bag out of its hiding place under her bed.  
  
Steven smiled back at her, blue eyes twinkling in amusement.  
  
"Says who? Unruly Alanna herself?  
  
Nah, I've even not been as insolent as I could've. I just politely asked the priest if he seriously believed in all these things, he uses to tell us. Guess he didn't have many arguments to convince me of his standpoint there.  
  
Just decided to get my head shaved /again/, to teach me some humility. Shall I help you with that bag, lass?"  
  
As she nodded, he kneeled beside her and pulled on the case as well, till both of them went flying onto the floor side by side.  
  
"Ouch! At least you could've tried not to wipe of your bloody head at my shirt! I'll have to use my gift to get these out!"  
  
"Good gracious, Alanna! What about you going to the priests and claiming that they better have shaved me more carefully next time? Or what about you offering your service? Bet, you'd do it properly."  
  
Steven started groaning in pain, as Alanna propped up her elbow in his stomach to get up. His hooked nose crinkled.  
  
"Guess what?" she screamed into his face and started hopping around the room.  
  
"I won't be here to shave ye next time! I - won't - be - here!!!"  
  
Totally perplexed he held his stomach while his eyes followed the girl's motions. She hopped one round, then stopped in front of the cupboard and started to get some underwear, socks, breeches and skirts into her big bag. Staring at Alanna's red hair that whipped up and down, he suddenly realized what she'd said.  
  
"You what?" he asked. "You aren't serious, are you? I mean, where are you going, and why and what the heck shall I do without you? You're the one to pay for our lessons, I'm gonna be completely lost without you! -And I'd miss you." he added at last, like this had just come to his mind.  
  
"Oh." Alanna answered, turning slowly. She hadn't thought of that yet.  
  
Sure, when she went away, who would train with Steven, who would even get him the teachers? He depended on her, just like she'd always depended on him.  
  
All the time she'd been in the Convent, she'd never given up her passion for fighting. Just in the first week, she'd met Steven.  
  
He was just like her: he wanted to be a knight, but his father had put him here instead. Said, he didn't want him to be a knight; that traditionally only the heir and future lord of the fief would become knight, which meant Steven's older brother. Another knight in the family would have meant a possible competitor to the rightful heir, a possible threat. A priest at the convent on the other hand might be able to own an enormous political power, but he wasn't allowed to own a fief.  
  
Steven had, of course, understood the logic in his father's actions, but just couldn't fit in to the strictly ruled hierarchy of the monastery he had been sent to. He was too open-minded; he neglected the political moves other students used to improve their status. He needed some sort of compensation for this life, which, though intellectually challenging, didn't fulfil him in the least. He found his release and his fulfilment in the arts of war.  
  
So Alanna and Steven had begun to stick together. In their free time they would secretly train the shooting with bows and arrows, the fight with fists or daggers.  
  
When Alanna got into apprenticeship of the healers', she'd gone to town and helped old warriors with their gout. In turn, they'd taught her and Steven the fighting arts.  
  
Perhaps she could talk into some of their teachers.  
  
Bart the Knife, for example, seemed to really like Steven. For sure he would teach him even without pay. And there were others who liked him for his eager way of learning and the jokes he used to make.  
  
When Alanna told him about her thoughts, he didn't seem too glad about it.  
  
"But it won't be as much fun as with you, Alanna." he repeated stubbornly, eyebrows pulled together. "It simply won't be the same."  
  
She sighed. "Listen Steve."  
  
"No. You know I'm right!" He turned away from her just to kneel at the fireplace again. The nerve-racking sound of steel-wool being rubbed on the rusty iron filled the air.  
  
"Steve." But he wouldn't listen. He just rubbed on the iron even more intensely than before.  
  
When he didn't react on her third try either, Alanna spoke out three powerful words and pointed into his direction. The next second the boy held a bunch of soft cotton in his hand instead of the steel. He sighed.  
  
"Alanna, sometimes I wish you'd still be afraid of using your Gift. Or at least be less stubborn. - How do you think shall I ever manage to finish this rust-removing-detention-thing with some flocks of cotton?"  
  
"Just let it be. You know we need to talk now! See, I do understand your standpoint. And, well, I won't be leaving the Convent -."  
  
"Mithros, stop that stuff, Alanna!" he interrupted, a shocked expression on his face. "Sure you will go to Corus. This is your first and maybe only chance to get out of here and I don't want to be the reason for you to stay. At least if you leave, you'll be the one feeling guilty. If you stay, I'll be the one and I wouldn't like that. Especially with you around reminding me every five seconds that it's my fault. You go, understand?"  
  
His bitter grin was answered with a teeth-glittering bright smile.  
  
"Oh, how cute and chivalrous you are!" She laughed.  
  
"You might feel neglected now, but I didn't want to stay anyway. What I wanted to say was that I'm not going to be away /for a long time/!  
  
See, it's a kinda healing deployment, you know? Somehow there seems to be a disease broken out in the Capital. So I'm gonna go there with a bunch of other healers and help out the inhabitants. Probably I won't be doing anything else but healing, eating and sleeping, but at least there will be no holy Sisters around me for about two or three months."  
  
"Two or three months?" He looked suspicious.  
  
"Yeah, no longer. And I'll be sending you letters about what I'm doing and what kind of techniques the resident warriors use. I promise."  
  
He groaned, standing up slowly. "So I've made a fool of myself for two months of freedom of some bullying girl?"  
  
"Yes, honey. Made a fool of yourself like everyday." She was broken of by a bunch of cotton targeted directly into her charming smile.  
  
"Stop kidding me, girl, or I'll make you regret it!"  
  
"I don't like threats!" And this way the greatest pillow fight in the world's history began. 


	3. Corus

3 (Corus these days.)  
  
NINE DAYS LATER . . .  
  
It was a nightmare. The city of Corus, which was supposed to be beautiful and fascinating, nearly drowned in death: Throughout the whole town, the sounds of death-hymns could be heard; countless dead bodies were taken around on barrows; the screams of the ill and the cries of the bereaved rang out through streets and houses. Death reigned in Corus and the healers were helpless against the cause.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
"Alanna! Alanna!"  
  
She did not look up, but concentrated on the patient in front of her. It was a boy, about three years older than her, with light-blonde hair and blue eyes that's glassy gaze was fixated on the ceiling. In fact, he looked rather handsome and might've caused the girls to swoon over him. But Alanna knew better.  
  
She knew that this boy would never fall in love again, that he would never laugh again and that he would never again fight with that self-made bronze- sword that was lying in one corner of the room. She knew, because this boy could not stop coughing. Mucus blocked his lungs and cold sweat made him shiver in the overheated room. Sometimes he'd scream for help against demons, which haunted him in his hallucinations. The medicine didn't work. - This boy was going to die before the bell would ring to the daily mass. He was going to be one of the dead they would be praying for. Unless she helped him.  
  
Slowly she began to call on her gift, let it grow until there was a huge ball of violet fire in front of her inner eye. She staggered slightly, but continued nevertheless. Her hands were on top of the patient's breast, where the healing would have to begin. But the very moment, she pulled on her gift to let it flow into the body; someone pushed her hands away from the boy.  
  
If Alanna hadn't been working for the healers the full last three days without more than three hours of sleep, she might've been able to free herself of the grip two strong hands had on hers. But she was exhausted - physically as well as emotionally, from seeing so much suffer. Her weak struggle against the hands didn't help her in any way and slowly she began to hear what the person in front of her was trying to say.  
  
"Alanna! Remember, you are just an apprentice. You are not allowed to do a full magic healing on your own in a case like this disease. And even if you weren't just an apprentice, you couldn't do anything. This boy is going to die. The Black God has already claimed him. The God is strong, but you are weak. Exhausted. You hear me, Alanna? You can't help him. You would die in the progress and nothing could ever bring you back. Alanna! Alanna!"  
  
When the words had finally sunk into her mind, Alanna tried to hold still in the grip of those hands, but realized that she couldn't. Her whole body was trembling uncontrollably and tears were silently running down her cheeks. There truly was nothing she could do. Not in this state of hers anyway. She closed her eyes as though not to let anyone see the despair in them.  
  
The last days had been too much for the girl.  
  
All around her she had seen people dying by a disease no one knew the remedy for, people crying for those who died, people unsuccessfully trying to heal others, and people that prayed for their relatives and friends with all their might. It had been pure suffer and pain that had revealed themselves in front of the thirteen-year-old. And she had realized that she had not been ready for this yet. She felt too young, too helpless. Even her fighting arts could not help her against the almighty enemy: the disease. The situation was overwhelming her and with the many little things that she was allowed to do she didn't seem to archive anything at all. She was useless and that was something she could not deal with.  
  
"Alanna?" A worried voice brought her back to the present.  
  
'Reassure her! Tell her that you are all right!' something inside of her whispered. The voice was strong and Alanna opened her mouth to do what it said, but realized that she couldn't: "I. -I."  
  
If the person hadn't still had a hold on her hands, the fainting girl surely would've collided with the white marble floor.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
"Has anyone of you found out some efficient method to defeat this strange sickness?"  
  
Duke Baird, the head of healers in the palace asked. It was one of their daily meetings where they would inform each other about everything in connection with the Sweating Sickness, as this was what the strange disease had been named. For the last few days nothing new had been developed, but Baird could not suppress a faint hope when he asked his question.  
  
Slowly each and every healer shook his head.  
  
"Well." The duke tried to smile encouragingly but failed miserably. "As all indications seem to prove the disease to be artificial, a messenger has been sent to the most powerful magicians of Tortall. We haven't received an answer yet. Other news we don't have so far. I can only repeat the warning: do not overtax yourselves in any ways. Your health is needed urgently and we cannot do with completely exhausted or even dead healers.  
  
"I wish you good luck. May the Great Gods bless you."  
  
Pure exhaustion could be seen on the healers' faces as they all answered with a mumbled: "The gods bless you!" Then everyone quietly got back to work or to bed for a short nap.  
  
- "Your Lordship?" One of the healers that had lately come from the City of the Gods came forward to speak to Baird. Her simple brown dress and haircut proved her identity as that of a commoner, although her speech did not betray her.  
  
"Yes?" he asked tiredly and rubbed his sleeves. He'd got a gods-damned headache, which he normally would've healed with his gift. But he could not waste his powers on something as ordinary as this in a time like that.  
  
"We have run out of some sorts of herbs. If you'd give me your permission, I will send my apprentice to get new ones in the Lower City."  
  
He wrinkled his brow.  
  
"An apprentice? Why, we need every single healer - fully educated or not - here at the palace. Why can't you just send one of the servants or the pages?"  
  
"Please, Sir! My apprentice is a thirteen-year-old girl. She had a breakdown just some hours ago - after working incessantly for the last days. I think she needs a short break from all this. A short walk into town and back might not only stimulate her blood circulation but also her will to carry on. I think that she might even break down entirely if we do not give her this break of work."  
  
The duke sighed. A thirteen-year-old girl? The woman was right, she might need a break. After all, what kind of world was this, when children had to watch others die while they were supposed to be helping them? Baird shuddered at the thought what he would've felt like if, at that age, he had had to sit helplessly at the bed of ill, dying people. It was horrible enough now, that he was an adult.  
  
"I agree with you, madam. I give you my allowance." 


	4. Hallucinations

4 (hallucinations in the palace)  
  
"Go into the Lower City, buy the herbs standing on the list I've given to you and -most importantly- try to recover a bit!"  
  
Those were her orders for the day! Alanna felt like screaming hearing this, for it seemed like they thought her too weak to go on with the healers' business. But she restrained herself except for the clenching and unclenching of her hands. She knew that, if she ever wanted to become some useful element of society -as a healer or a warrior, there was no difference in this department- she had to learn to obey her superiors.  
  
Gritting her teeth Alanna answered with a "Yes, ma'am!" and bowed her head in an attempt to leave. But a tender grip on her shoulder prevented her from doing so.  
  
"Alanna, we really do need the herbs. This is no try to just . busy someone we think too weak to carry on. It's just that at the moment with this special illness actual healing seems near impossible. You know that as well as I do. Your task IS important. We cannot act without any medicine left. Do not forget that."  
  
Alanna nodded her red head in agreement before finally turning to the doors of their meeting room. At the moment she preferred not to think about why Maude had said her last sentences (because they were true or because she knew Alanna to well and wanted to destroy her depressions). So she concentrated on her surroundings.  
  
It was an early Tuesday morning, the sun had just about begun to rise, but all the halls and corridors the girl passed by were already crowded. There were seemingly hundreds of servants, pages, squires and noble men. Alanna knew that most of the Ladies used to spend their days in their chambers these days, in the fear of getting infected. One couldn't possibly imagine what the palace must look like when there weren't half of its inhabitants ill, dead or hiding. It must look like a crazy beehive then, crazier than now anyway.  
  
Alanna shook her head slightly as if to clear it and wondered how people could just go on with their daily life in a time like this. Sure, there had to be meals cooked, kitchenware cleaned, warriors had to do their exercises as always, as the palace had never been more vulnerable than these days. But still, how could people just do their work and feel . normal?  
  
Suddenly a scream reached the girl's ears, interrupting her thoughts.  
  
"Oh Gods! Bring me to the healers, I'm hallucinating! I must have got the fever as well!"  
  
Although hallucinations were a sign of serious illness, the speaker's voice did not sound seriously ill or weak. Alanna knew that if she just acted quickly she might still be able to heal him. Quickly scanning the crowds around her, Alanna identified the boy that had just ejected his cry for help.  
  
He was about thirteen: a blond, burly page that covered his eyes with his left hand while his right wagged in the air as if to scare off some ghost. He was surrounded by a group of four other pages his age and a bit younger, as well as some servants that had stopped when his scream had rung out.  
  
Alanna hastily but still quite slowly made her way through the thick crowd that surged in the corridor. While coming ever nearer the blond page, she listened carefully to what was being said in the group.  
  
"What happened, Douglas? What's up?" he was being asked.  
  
"I've got hallucinations!" an excited voice answered, a bit muffled by the hand that covered Douglas face. "I thought I'd seen that Trebond-guy walking by, all dressed up as a girl!"  
  
Along with the boys surrounding the blond page, Alanna let out a quiet laughter. So this guy had mistaken her for her brother!  
  
Enraged by the reaction his companions paid his 'hallucination', Douglas finally took his hand from his face and glared at everyone: "This is not funny! I really saw Thom and - Argh!" He'd seen her again and pointed at her, making everyone jump whose eyes followed the given direction.  
  
Although Alanna kind of enjoyed this incident, she was eager to get to know something about her brother. In all three or four days in the palace she had never really had time to meet him. She just knew that he was okay and Coram, his servant, had promised to send for her if he should ever fall ill.  
  
"Hello!" she greeted the boys, rolling her eyes as they looked at her as if trying to find out if she was for real.  
  
"Even her eyes are the same colour as his. And she rolls them at us just like he does." a small brown head with big eyes like a teddy bear's whispered. He twitched nervously when she glared at him. She was getting irritated.  
  
"Hello-o? Two people, same age, same look, same characteristics, different gender? Ever heard anything about a phenomenon called 'twins'?" she asked and pushed her chin forward stubbornly.  
  
About thirty seconds later Alanna finally got an answer. It was the little brown head again, with his big brown eyes.  
  
"So you are Alanna? The infamous? The one that can do sorcery and healing and dunks helpless little boys into the fish pond?"  
  
Alanna had to stifle a laughter hearing is. That last sentence sounded exactly like something Thom would've said. But before Alanna could ask any questions about her brother, a loud bell rang through the floor, announcing the begin of the working day.  
  
"I've gotta get to work." Alanna stated and pulled at the little page's arm when he started to get going himself. "Could you please tell Thom to visit me tonight after seventh bell? My rooms are in the healers' quarters."  
  
With that their ways departed.  
  
- - - - - - - - - 


	5. In the streets

5 (Two men in the streets.. and it isn't even dark outside yet!)  
  
One of the Guards at the Palace's gates was able to give the directions to Willow Street, where the redheaded healer-apprentice was supposed to go to. It was about a mile to go, and the walker passed by lanes full of corners, old cobble stoned paths with small cracks full of light-green grass.  
  
So, grinning contentedly, Alanna made her way to the herbs' dealer Maude had recommended to her. If anyone from the Convent had seen her now, he would've said something along the lines: "She's up to no good! Make sure, all the Ladies' embroideries are safe and sound in some fire-proof room!"  
  
But the infamous innocent smile -Alanna's trade mark- was not aimed at any mischief today. No, right now, she just felt like there were no problems on Earth at all. She was going to see her brother, she was having a free day and she could finally stretch her stiffened up legs in a fast walk. Alanna was near euphoria, which might be the reason, why she didn't notice the two arguing men until she had practically run into them.  
  
"Watch where you're goin'!" one of them told her off and shoved her away with his left hand.  
  
Alanna wanted to say something, but that left hand of the man had distracted her. There were two fingers missing at it, and by the scars on it, it looked like he had repeatedly grabbed into a fire. She would've felt pity for the man, had he not looked just as unfriendly as his voice had sounded. His short, sandy hair was brushed out of his face, and by the look of it, it had not been washed since last midwinter. The shape of his hostile face made Alanna estimate him at thirty to thirty-five years of age, and his clothes proved him to be a Commoner.  
  
With another hostile remark, the man interrupted her observations: "You! Still there, are you? Get lost now, girl, or I'll make you!" he shouted and let his handicapped hand shoot to a small dagger at his belt.  
  
The other man, who seemed to be about ten years younger, quickly laid his own hand on the first one's and blinked at Alanna with hazel eyes. "Sorry for his behaviour, lass." he started apologizing. "Just ignore him; he's a bit moody today because he knows he's done some things wrong lately. Still, he got some pretty ears, now, hasn't he? Eh, Harry, haven't you?"  
  
Alanna gave a confused smile at the sudden change of subject, but decided that she rather liked this man's light tone and the way he smiled at her. With his facial expression he rather reminded her of Stephen, but while the latter talked without hesitation, this man seemed to think over everything before saying anything. She wanted to say something to him, just to find out his reaction and to hear him talk once more, but didn't get the chance to do so.  
  
While the younger man had reached up to touch some of those 'pretty ears', the man called Harry had taken some steps backwards and raised his hands in defence.  
  
"Oh no, George!" he screamed frantically. "You won't get my ears. I did nothing wrong. Really. I just tried and made money the way I always made it. And, you know."  
  
"I know, that I told you to stop with it, for the duration of the sickness, Harry. You know, why." George interrupted him calmly and pointed at him with his index finger. "You know the rules, and we'll just have to act according to them."  
  
"You won't have my ears!" Harry screamed once more. "You won't! Sure as hell's on FIRE!" Crying out the last word, he raised his left hand in an imitation of the other man. Only he didn't have a forefinger to point with.  
  
Alanna had quietly followed the conversation, though not understanding a word of it. Now she felt magic build up and sensed a danger in it.  
  
"Stop!" she cried, while automatically a purple ray shot from her fingers and formed a bubble around the man called George. Roughly half a second later, pure hot fire shot from Harry's crippled hand only to bounce off the bubble.  
  
The fire, however, did not go out, but instead moved back towards its creator, and partly towards Alanna who did not get the chance to react before it had already reached her.  
  
The dreadful smell of burned flesh filled the air, while the purple lights of Alanna's magic and the flashing flames of the destructive fire flickered and finally died. ---  
  
A lone man could be seen standing between two lying bodies that twitched slightly. Any spectators might have wondered why the man did not even look at the crippled male on the ground, but moved over to the girl who obviously did not have as deep injuries as the man. He cradled her in his arms and made his way down the road, while shaking his head and muttering to himself about his mother who would surely tell him of for endangering an uninvolved girl.  
  
And she so DID tell him off!  
  
- - - - - - - 


	6. Up again

I'm sorry, I didn't write more in such a long time. I had to do my A-levels as well as move to another town to start studying at university; so I have enough excuses to last even two more months! Anyway, here I present the work I have done in these last 3 days of excessive writing sessions. (It's really amazing, how much more time you will put into writing if you don't have a TV in your new apartment.) I have also rewritten parts of the earlier chapters. I hope things are more comprehensible now: like, why exactly did Steven's father send him to the City of the Gods instead of Corus etc. I think, I've taken a liking in thinking up political or social facts for Tortall. I'm sure, you will realize this not only in the whole 'Steven-matter' in chapter, what is it? 2?, but also in this very chapter, which in fact is two chapters put together. I hope you like it! ~ Regen  
  
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6 (The Rogue, his mother and - your bonus - a real seer, who unfortunately doesn't really last long. To perfect the drama, there's also a lot of sorrow, despair and patriotism.)  
  
It was cold, so very cold when she woke up. Her face and hands were numb and her teeth were rattling. Alanna opened her eyes slowly, blinked a few times and then realized that she was lying on a soft bed with two blankets covering her shivering body.  
  
The room she was in looked rather homely - with solid wooden chairs, table and cupboards. Flames in an oven on one side of the room send their flickering lights darting over every surface. Secretly, Alanna wondered how it was possible for a room to be so cold in temperature while so warm in outlook.  
  
"Cold." she whispered and started an attempt to gain a foetal position in which she would not lose as much warmth. She stopped this attempt however, when she realized that somebody had put pillows underneath her legs. Her feet were lying higher than her head. But why.  
  
'Shock.' a part of her mind said. 'You've had a shock. That's why you're feeling so cold, too!'  
  
"A shock." Alanna repeated slowly. Somehow she did not know why she would have had a shock, though. Thinking deeply, she scratched her nose, but was back in reality at once, because scratching hurt. Another reason was that obviously some slimy substance covered the skin on her face and hands. Alanna sniffed at it.  
  
"Aloe." The part of her brain reserved for healing knowledge was working hard now. Shock, Aloe,.. red hands?  
  
Suddenly the girl remembered most of what had happened: Maude, two men on the streets, magic building up. And then. fire, possibly. (A/N: someone told me, if you fainted you didn't have any remembrance of at least some seconds before. Cause you can't build proteins so fast and proteins is what recollections are, actually.) But. where was she now?  
  
Slowly, Alanna moved to sit on the edge of the bed to get nearer to the fireplace. All the while she tried hard to ignore the obtrusive blackness that attempted to conquer all of her view for a few moments.  
  
"So, you're up again?" a dark, warm voice suddenly asked. When Alanna moved to locate the voice's offspring, her eyes fell onto a muscular figure leaning at the wall near the doorway. It was the man from the streets, the one who had been talking about ears. Pretty ears.  
  
Alanna's muscles flexed when she wondered if he was some kind of pervert. In the convent, lesson: 'what a future husband might be like and how to please him', the ladies had learnt that some men were sexually fixated on special limbs or cloths. And of course that a wife had to accept these kinds of weirdness in her husband.  
  
Alanna had always thought this a bit creepy. After that lesson, she had - for 23 nights in a row! - dreamt of her best friend Steven asking a fellow ladies-student in a bride's gown to let him lick her thumps. And that student had just sort of ripped off those fingers and given them to him while the blood was flowing down the whole hand and Maude had had to try and stop the blood loss.  
  
Alanna shook her head to clear it and looked at the man in front of her. She meant to ask where she was, what had happened, but what came out instead was a slightly slurred "You're not after my ears, now, are you?"  
  
The man - his name was George, Alanna believed to remember vaguely - let out a lazy laugh, which relaxed her at once. "No, I'm not. We meet for the first time, and you're already expecting me to cut your pretty ears? You don't even look like you're one of my people, lass." He pretended to eye her carefully. "But you never know. what's your name, and where do you come from?"  
  
Amused by his playful interrogation, she answered shortly, matching his playful tone: "Alanna. City of the Gods, originally Trebond. You?"  
  
"Alanna?" He seemed surprised about something. But why? Sure, Alanna wasn't a name as common as Eleni or Helena. But still, there was no reason to be so surprised about it, Alanna thought. Perhaps he had somehow heard about her. But.. No. The thought amused her. It wasn't like she was famous, though she might have been if only her father.  
  
"I should've known." The man interrupted her thought with a slight grin. "That explains a lot."  
  
Alanna, who didn't like being in the dark about anything, shot him a look. "Pardon?"  
  
His grin widened. "I have the Sight. It usually helps me in my business and life. Today, it told me to go easy on Harry and be nice to a pretty redhead in the streets. And look, where it got me: I'm in one room with the famous Alanna of Trebond who has a gift for both healing and fighting and is about the only noble lady who obviously doesn't mind being dressed as simple as a common girl in Corus."  
  
"And who doesn't take shit from anybody." Alanna added in a tone that made it clear that he should explain. or else!  
  
"I beg your pardon, milady." His grin didn't waver in the least. "The name's George Cooper, and I believe that we have a mutual friend. Bart the Knife's his name."  
  
"You're George Cooper?" Alanna interrupted him, ignoring all the rules of politeness one had ever tried to teach her. This was way too exciting. "You're not his friend, you're his boss." she accused him. "The Rogue himself."  
  
George frowned lightly. "I didn't know, he had told you about his. work. He must trust you even more than I thought he did."  
  
- "So the girl's up?" a female voice suddenly interrupted George, who was still standing in the doorway.  
  
Behind him, there was a middle-aged woman in simple clothing, who leaned lightly on a crutch. Her hair was chestnut-coloured with only one or two streaks of white in it. The eyes that looked at Alanna were hazel and warm, though hard lines framed them as well as the smiling mouth. There was such likeliness between her and George, that Alanna at once suspected them to be mother and son.  
  
"I am Mistress Cooper, the mother of this good-for-nothing boy. I've been looking after your injuries. You've merely suffered light burns on your face and hands. I don't think you are going to be scarred, if you use the balm I am going to give you."  
  
Alanna restrained from telling George's mother that she wouldn't need the balm, that she could make some on her own. She didn't want to hurt her pride; with the expensive balm (especially expensive in a time when medicine was in as short a supply as now) Mistress Cooper was probably trying to make up for the hurt Alanna had indirectly received through her son.  
  
The woman neared Alanna with a small vial, which probably held the balm she had mentioned. When she tripped on her short way to the bed, it became obvious to Alanna's trained eye that Mistress Cooper had to use her crutch because of exhaustion, not because of some leg injury.  
  
"You should be resting, not moving around." The words slipped out of her mouth before Alanna even realized it.  
  
The corners of the woman's mouth quivered slightly. "Has George paid you to tell me that? I'm a healer-woman, girl. I know my own limits."  
  
Alanna sat up a bit straighter at that. The woman's ranking was higher than her own; and although the healers didn't really give much about a formal hierarchy, an apprentice had to pay respect to those who had more of experience.  
  
"I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't realize you were /Healer-woman/ Cooper. In Willow Street, if I'm right? I was sent to you from the Palace. I was told that you are also a dealer in herbs and would be able to supply us with the plants we are in need for. I have got a list of the ones we need."  
  
-----  
  
.  
  
George had left shortly after the two females (can't say women; after all, Alanna's only 13!) had started discussing the list of herbs, excusing himself with some business he had to go after. Alanna wondered if that 'business' had anything to do with Harry's ears - as weird as that sounded even to her. But soon she got too busy to be thinking about anything other than herbs as she helped Mistress Cooper readying the packs of herbs to go to the palace.  
  
- The news reached them minutes before tenth bell, roughly three hours after Alanna had awoken at Mistress Cooper's. They came to them in form of a red-faced, bald man who rushed through the streets in panic. Frantically screaming, he broke down in front of Mistress Cooper's neighbour's door. Soon a small crowd, including the two healers, formed around the man.  
  
"He's dying! Death, death, everywhere! Our sinful lives are coming down on us! The Gods have turned away from us! He's dying now, too. Dying! Dying!"  
  
The man's words drowned in a sea of tears, while Alanna's short-lived illusion of a peaceful life came to shattering halt. She'd just about forgotten the reason for which she had been standing in the cosy, dimmed cave full of herbs. The disease. It had still been there. It didn't take breaks nor did it know mercy. For all she knew, it could already have claimed the king or - her heart ached at the thought - her brother.  
  
Compassionately she bowed down to the man to offer him her help - may Maude say what she want, Alanna didn't intend on letting anyone die without a fight. But the man denied her help even before she could offer it. (That's a hint. Well... not important. You'll See.)  
  
"No, no, I don't need your help, no one will be needing help anymore! It's him! Our future is dying!" the man screamed again. "There is not one healer left in the whole of Corus who could help him now! They are all weakened, helpless. He will die, and our land will fall into the hands of the Sorcerer! The Orange Demon! We all shall go down with him! I know it!"  
  
The man was obviously going crazy with pain. Alanna desperately wanted to help him.  
  
"But who is dying?" she asked. "Where is he?"  
  
"Our lord." His voice suddenly became less shrill; it became calmer as if the man had finally found the will to accept whatever fate held. He spoke like a herald, announcing the Gods' will. "His royal highness Prince Jonathan lies on his deathbed at this very moment."  
  
The crowd around the man gasped, just before his eyes clouded, their once green colour fading to the misty grey of a true seer.  
  
"Even the Gods cannot see what is going to happen now. This is a turning point. Two ways to chose and one to go. Exhausted healers can't do the task. Might as well give up before starting! The future will end like it is. Or perhaps there is a way? Is it up to many to /hinder/ the one from immediate success, for he cannot be stopped just now? Violet fire . But, this.. Ah!"  
  
With a last groan, the bald seer, suddenly aged threefold, closed his eyes and let his head sink to the ground. (Very Hollywood-style, if you ask me!)  
  
"He tried to See too much. He used his life-force to See and died." Mistress Cooper whispered. "May the Gods save us all, the Prince's life is in jeopardy!"  
  
The people around them quietly drew the sign against all evil in the air or started to pray.  
  
- Prince Jonathan was an only child, and therefore the only rightful heir to the throne of Tortall. Although his father, the King, didn't allow him much of contact with the common people, there was not one week without a new rumour about the Prince's pranks or love life going round in the City. He was a lively young man, but still very responsible when it came to his duties as a Prince. The people liked that in him.  
  
Sure, there existed a Duke Roger of Conté, the Prince's cousin. He was next heir after the Prince. But he was neither very well known in the people nor did he seem very nice. He was a powerful sorcerer who had travelled just about the whole known world. But he wasn't someone to sympathise with. He was just too slippery (is that the right word? My dictionary isn't really very informative here), too perfect. Somehow he didn't seem human; he had no flaws, no enemies, no vices! No one, especially not the people of Corus, wanted a perfect doll as a king. They wanted a human! They wanted Prince Jonathan.  
  
"My Gods!" a woman suddenly started to scream at the sky. "Is there truly no hope? The Black God took my daughter, but, Mother, don't let him take our country's future!"  
  
"Perhaps it is the Gods will? Perhaps the Prince just isn't meant to be king?" A tall man in a nightshirt asked uncertainly.  
  
"Maybe the Seer was wrong." Another suggested. "Maybe there is still hope. There has to be at least one healer left at the Palace. They've got the best healers of the whole land!"  
  
"No." Alanna quietly said. All heads turned towards her. "Yesterday there was a new break-out in the Palace. The healers used all their powers to try and heal those infected. Not one of the healers in the palace nor in the city of Corus is in any condition to be helping anyone anymore."  
  
With that she turned and got back into the house, only to reappear a few moments later with some small bags of herbs in her hands.  
  
"Mistress Cooper." She addressed the healer-woman who was silently staring at the dead Seer's body at her feet. "I will make sure that you will receive your payment for the herbs, but right now I have to make sure the Prince gets all the medicine he needs. . Goodbye."  
  
Alanna turned on her heels and ran back to the Palace as fast as possible. It wasn't very difficult to find the way, as the Palace stood on a hill above the City and could be seen from any place inside Corus.  
  
- The screams of sorrow and pain had suddenly declined to make way for a different prayer as the people realized the approach of a greater misfortune than their own private disasters. Men, women and children alike stepped onto the streets to face the high palace-walls. Their lips moved in- sync in silent prayer:  
  
"Gods, save the Prince!" 


	7. Being useful

(Sorry, if I overdid the whole patriotism stuff in the last chapter. It was fun to write though.)  
  
7 The Prince is ill, the nobles are mad, and Alanna saves the day.  
  
"Bring me to the Prince", Alanna demanded of the elderly, sloppily dressed man, who had just about run into her. He looked like a drunkard of sorts, but also radiated an odd feeling of sympathy.  
  
"I." He opened his mouth, probably to deny her the wish, but a hard look in her eyes shut him up.  
  
"I have medical herbs and potions with me. He needs to get them. Immediately."  
  
Without further objection he turned into another direction, his gestures silently telling her to follow him. They rushed through corridors and halls which, though normally crowded, were unnaturally silent and empty. The people's worry about the crown prince seemed to have stopped about all the normal activities. When the sickness had put everyone here through a however cruel or sad personal fate, daily routine had never failed to prevail. The general disaster though, the sickness of their future king, had shaken everyone badly.  
  
"Do you know about his Highness's current state?" Alanna asked quietly, feeling like desecrating the silence if she spoke too loudly.  
  
The man nodded. "It is bad. Seems like he's already hallucinating. The priests are already singing their hymns, I hear, and the noble folks are crowding in his chambers."  
  
Bad. Very bad, Alanna thought. Most of those hallucinating this early didn't live through the day. Like that blond boy. Alanna gulped. She decided to ask another question.  
  
"Do you know, if healer-woman Maude is at the Prince's chambers as well?"  
  
"Maude, you say? If you mean the one from fief Trebond, then she isn't. The Queen had a relapse today, and the healer-woman saved her. Seems, she overly exhausted herself in the progress. Couldn't do much more than breathing afterwards, or so they say. But the other healers don't seem to have that much more strength left either."  
  
But she lives, Alanna told herself. She lives.  
  
Alanna could hear low chanting now, and knew they were nearing their destination. Next, a young girl of about sixteen crossed their way, loudly weeping while she ran. Alanna recognised her as the Prince's latest conquest. Amalia of Tollhorn, some or other. She recognized her because Thom had sent her one of the drawings the love-sick Prince had made of her some weeks ago. But that wasn't important now. Important was.  
  
Alanna gasped. They had reached the doors to the royal bedroom, and - it was crowded. The air was thick with incense; monks chanted; nobles prayed, talked or watched silently; Duke Baird, the head of healers, was leaning at the wall, a hopeless expression on his face. But what really hit Alanna hard was the sight of a pale, black haired boy on the four-poster bed in the middle of the room. He didn't do anything, just lying there, his eyes closed, while drops of sweat slowly rolled down his face, and his limbs trembled in occasional spasms. Alanna stared at him, until he suddenly opened his dried lips and screamed noiselessly in obvious fear.  
  
Alanna turned to the elderly man, whose arm she just realized she had clawed into. Slowly, she released him. He smiled at her in an understanding way.  
  
"How is the Prince supposed to heal, if he doesn't even get the chance to breathe properly in here? All this incense, the people.. I don't understand why Lord Baird lets this happen. Even in my first year as apprentice, I would've never done anything like this. Don't those stupid nobles know even the rudimentary rules of healing? This is unbelievable." Alanna rambled. She didn't even realise, how reproachful the look in her eyes must have been.  
  
The man sighed sadly. "What do you expect me to do? Kick them out? These people here have the right to be by their Prince's side in times of emergency, haven't they? They think so, anyway."  
  
"But by being at his side, as you say, they only worsen the situation. Look at Duke Baird, I beg you. He is exhausted, and doesn't know what to do anymore. Neither of the healers knows what to do anymore. They have all used their Gifts as much as they could. And now the crown-prince has fallen ill, and I am probably the only one with the Healing Gift who is not exhausted. I am only an apprentice, but with this illness, this is of no importance. You cannot fight with experience or knowledge here. What counts, is pure power, and that I still have. I was sent here because of the extend of my Gift. Though with the help of my brother I could probably near double it."  
  
Breathing deeply, Alanna stopped. She didn't even know, why she was telling him this. After all, he was just some sloppy old man, maybe an elderly servant. It didn't help to tell him of her worries. No, she would have to talk to Duke Baird.  
  
A hand on her arm held her back, when she turned away. The man looked her into the eyes intensely. He nodded slightly. "You're pretty convincing, you know. And you may in fact be the Prince's only chance." He murmured. Then he let her go, flattened his hair a bit and straightened. All of a sudden, he seemed pretty intimidating and respectable: a figure of authority.  
  
"Have you all gone mad?" he let his voice boom through the chamber. Every weeping, every chatter and every other sound died. Even the priests stopped their never-ending chant. Everyone stared at the small man, who seemed to have grown at least two feet in the last few moments.  
  
"What are you singing death-hymns for?" he told the priests off, then turning to everyone else present. "His Highness is still very much alive, if you haven't noticed. Shame on you, for losing all your faith! Shame on you! And what do you all think, you are doing here? Having a nice chat at his death-bed? Get out of here, get out, I say. Prince Jonathan needs quiet and healing. You cannot provide him with either of the two. - Duke Baird." He then turned to the latter, dismissing everyone else.  
  
The Duke nodded, obviously relieved. "Leave." He repeated, when some looked at him questioningly. "You are of no assistance here. Go to the temples and pray for the Prince's health. That is the only way you can help him at the moment."  
  
Everyone filed out of the room slowly, some throwing reproachful glances in the direction of the man who had quite literally kicked them out. He took no heed of them.  
  
"Duke Baird." He repeated instead. "This young Lady told me to do what I did just then. She wanted to speak to you as well."  
  
The duke's eyes widened in surprise, before he turned to Alanna, who was still quite stunned from the supposed servant's acting.  
  
"You're Healer-woman Maude's apprentice, are you not?" he asked her, rubbing his head. He could feel the migraine coming. "I thought, you had been sent to the city today, to get more supplies?"  
  
"Yes, your Grace." Alanna answered, slightly edgy. "It was there I heard about the Prince's sickness, which is why I instantly returned here, with some herbs and potions. The rest of it will be delivered at a later time, I presume."  
  
With these words, she laid the bag she had filled at Mistress Cooper's' on the nearest table. From the corner of her eyes, she could see another one of those self-made copper-swords. But this boy would not die like the one yesterday. She would make sure of it. She would.  
  
"It does not look like the herbs are going to be of great help, little one." The duke smiled sadly. "This sickness is just about immune to traditional, natural healing methods. And the healers are drained from their Gifts."  
  
"But I am not, your Grace." Alanna said as intently as she could. "My mistress, healer-woman Maude did not allow me to use my Gift for healing, for fear of my over-exhaustion. I have the gift, and I am not drained. I beg of you, let me try this. Let me try to heal the prince."  
  
He furrowed his brow. "I heard you collapsed yesterday."  
  
"I was exhausted. I had not slept in days. Duke Baird, please. The prince will die, if no one helps him." Alanna grew more and more anxious.  
  
The duke just stared at her. Then he nodded slightly.  
  
Alanna smiled slightly, then turned to the servant, man, whatever. "Could you do me a favour and fetch my brother please? You know why."  
  
He bowed and vanished, before Alanna even remembered that she hadn't ever told him her name. Or her brother's for that instance.  
  
- - -  
  
- - -  
  
"We are healers. We cannot give up. Not when the fight is about a life. Any life. Especially the crown prince's."  
  
"I know that you, that all healers, are exhausted. That you cannot do anything for this boy. But she has not been allowed to heal yet. If one does have the gift for healing, and one must use it."  
  
"Lord Baird, you know as well I do that people who start hallucinating as fast as the Prince usually don't have much time left. Let her try it."  
  
"But she broke down the day before. Who knows that she won't do it again?"  
  
"The healer-woman she came with, she didn't allow her to heal. Said it was too dangerous. But for whom, for the girl or the patients?"  
  
"Maude is unconscious."  
  
"Her gift for healing is greater than any I have ever even heard about."  
  
- - -  
  
Alanna could almost hear their chatter through the thick marble walls of the Prince's bedroom. They were talking about her. They were observing her every step and action. Alanna felt like running away, but she had a duty to fulfil.  
  
The natural methods of healing had proved useless, just as she had known, they would. Even her magic, already weakened from the happenings earlier in the city, would not suffice here, she knew.  
  
"Thom? I need your help. I need your magic. I need everything you can give me. Put it into the fire and then don't try to intervene with my spell anymore. I don't want you to be put in danger."  
  
"I know what you want to do. But there have been magicians more powerful and experienced than us who didn't live long enough to see the flames go out."  
  
"I will try and call to the Mother, as I am part of her convent and as a female I am closer to her."  
  
Thom submitted.  
  
He reached down inside himself. There was a bright purple sphere at the core of his very being. Normally, he would pump up parts of it, like water. Today he tried something he had never done before. In his mind he saw himself grabbing the sphere, lifting it, and placing it in the fire in one smooth movement. Thom gasped. He was completely void of his gift now, no trace of magic left in his whole body. He staggered. He wouldn't be able to stay conscious much longer, so he sent a quick prayer to the Gods. Now it was up to them to protect his sister. He had done everything he could. Blackness claimed his mind shortly after this.  
  
The flames flickered in a violet colour now.  
  
"Thank you, brother." Alanna whispered, when Thom's exhausted body sank to the ground unconscious. She didn't worry about him, since his breast rose and fell steadily with every breath he took.  
  
She should worry about herself now, though. This was truly dangerous.  
  
For a moment she stared at her hands which looked so pale in the flames' unnatural light. She then clenched her teeth and put her hands into the fire in grim determination.  
  
"Good Mother." She prayed. "Mistress of the elements, lady of the seas and mountains. Have mercy, oh great one!"  
  
The sacred words seemed to vanish out of the air, when with the sound of thunder, the flames suddenly towered over the kneeling girl.  
  
A city materialized in front of the girl's eyes. Its black towers hummed with a noiseless melody, tempting her to approach it. The air smelled of hot sand and the sun, which was burning down mercilessly.  
  
'But I didn't ask to See.' The thought shot through Alanna's head, before it was replaced by pure hot magic.  
  
The magic threatened to burn her alive, and Alanna nearly screamed out in pain. She didn't though, in favour of biting her lips until they were bleeding. More and more magic poured into her, so that her already weak control slipped away even more.  
  
'I am here, child.' A voice suddenly boomed through her ears. It obviously wasn't meant for human ears. Its sound reminded of hounds in dark woods and the huntress, setting them on a deer. Alanna released a loud cry at the words, tears tumbling down her cheeks.  
  
'I am with you. Call him back!' The voice continued.  
  
But Alanna wasn't able to even move at the moment. The magic, the pain were overwhelming her.  
  
'Damn it.' She thought. 'Alanna, remember, what they told you, when you were still afraid of your Gift? Magic is only a means. It exists so you can use it. Not so it can use you.' And with this she fought. Her teeth clenched so hard, that you could hear them grind. But slowly, Alanna forced the magic surrounding her underneath her skin. She did no longer feel pain, but power. She wielded this power, but she had to concentrate hard.  
  
'Call him back.' The voice repeated once again.  
  
"Thank you." Alanna whispered, while she walked to the Prince's bed slowly.  
  
She looked at him for a while, deciding what to do. She didn't really see a prince, but a boy, a young man of about sixteen years. He was handsome like the boy she was not able to save the other day, though in an entirely different way. He was dark, where the other had been light. He was screaming and clenching his fists repeatedly, while the other had lain still. 'Good.' Alanna thought to herself. 'He is still fighting.' She would save this one.  
  
Slowly, she took his hand and kneed by his side. His blue eyes were wide open, staring unblinkingly at the sky. When Alanna looked at them, the pupils suddenly seemed to grow and grow, until Alanna could see nothing else but this. An eternity of blue and black.  
  
Faintly she realized, that she had left her body. Wandering deeper into the shadows, she could see human forms, drifting towards the black end of the tunnel. She let herself drift with them.  
  
Then, at the very end of the tunnel, she could see the prince. He seemed to be waiting for something or someone, just staring at the pitch-black ending before him.  
  
'Your Highness?' she called. But he did not react. She tried again.  
  
'Jonathan?' he turned, looking for the source of the call. But just in that moment, a great shadow moved in between them. It was a cloaked and hooded figure, at least 3 feet larger than Alanna. She recognized him at once: the Black God, the God of the dead.  
  
'Milord, you cannot have him. Not yet. He still has things to do in his life. Please.' She begged. She didn't even try to put something like a magical shield around herself, since she knew of his power. The healers were used to surrender to no one, but to him. Alanna and the Prince depended solely on his decision.  
  
The Black God rose his hand and touched Alanna's forehead for a moment. He nodded. Then he vanished.  
  
Alanna did not spend any time to wonder about this, but rushed to her patient, who was drifting dangerously close to the pitch-black abyss.  
  
'Jonathan.' She repeated softly and took his hand. 'You need to come home with me. Everybody is waiting for you.'  
  
He looked at her for a moment, then he nodded. 'I'm coming. Thank you for coming after me.' He had a deep, even voice. It was the voice of a grown man, who knew the ways of the world, and the ways of the people. It was a king's voice.  
  
Alanna didn't answer him, but turned around. Together they made their way back through the seemingly endless tunnel. A light spread from their joined hands, which melted all shadows away in a mixture of blue and violet. It faded though, just as the darkness faded, as they came nearer their destination.  
  
After what seemed to be an eternity, they finally stepped out and into the real world again. Alanna found herself in her body again, though all traces of the powerful magic she had held had faded. The boy in front of her was smiling, blinking at her. "Thank you for taking me home." He whispered and closed his eyes to sleep.  
  
Alanna smiled wearily back, before she, too, lost consciousness and fell down onto the prince's chest. 


End file.
